


The Courage of Stars

by hella1975



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bisexual Suki (Avatar), Bisexual Yue (Avatar), Dark Academia, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Like, Northern Water Tribe, Post-Canon, Post-War, Sparring, Stargazing, They are in love your honour, Title from a Sleeping At Last Song, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yue (Avatar) Lives, arnook is an overprotective dumbass but he means well, but like barely, can i make it any more obvious, comics? no, literally the most self-indulgent shit, obsessed with that tag actually, suki is an extrovert with her heart on her sleeve, suki shows yue that she deserves nice things and yue interprets that as inheriting the chiefdom, they might kiss, this is yue we're talking about she doesn't have a hateful bone in her body, two sapphics exchanging poems, we listen to sweater weather in this house, yue is the repressed literature nerd who never learnt to talk about her feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hella1975/pseuds/hella1975
Summary: Chief Arnook had always coddled Yue since her precarious start to life. He tiptoed around her like she was a fragile children’s toy, and if Yue had found it insufferable during her teenage years then she had no idea how bad it would get after that night at the Spirit Oasis. Her father realised that Yue wasn’t as safe as he’d hoped here, that if a single teenage boy couldswiminto their ranks without conflict, then what was stopping Yue from being hurt again?Changes were made, the Kyoshi Warriors were moved to the Northern Water Tribe, and she lost the last bit of freedom she had left.Yue thought the Head of the Kyoshi Warriors was rude and invasive. Suki thought the princess was arrogant and stiff.And then one day, Yue found a poem on her bed.
Relationships: Suki/Yue (Avatar)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 135





	The Courage of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to campus by vampire weekend on repeat when I was doing english homework a few weeks ago and then this idea slapped me in the face at 1am so if anyone’s to blame it’s ezra koenig. I’ve been feverishly writing this for a while now and hey, sometimes the urge strikes you to write two sapphic dark academics and who am I to refuse that? That's just how it be on this bitch of an earth. it got sappier than i expected but i can't say i'm mad about it. happy valentine's day
> 
> title is from Saturn by Sleeping At Last which makes me go genuinely feral. all the poems are in the end notes. the poets are credited in the actual fic but a lot of them are extracts from bigger poems and i Love Them All A Lot so they're there if you want to check them out x

Written in heavy ink on old parchment, nestled within the loved pages of a broken-spined astronomy book and stored atop a shelf on the back row of the library, the darkest corner, where no one could see them, is a poem. It is written by a Northern Water Tribe hand and smudged by an Earth Kingdom hand; fitful and distracted. It is found by a curious teenager one day, a girl whose mind wanders when with her best friend. She reads it, and she does not know where it came from. No one does. It reads as follows: 

_In seven days, she destroyed your world  
for the next seven, eat with your fingers  
& trust only the moon._

She holds it close, and briefly, she thinks of taking it, pocketing the poem that makes her heart stutter to think on. But she doesn’t. Like many young girls before her, she puts it back, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep this _safe_. It is now a secret of the Northern Water Tribe; dusty and archaic. Decades have passed since the ink dried, dozens of hearts turned by the love within the parchment. It becomes an inside joke, almost. Girls of that kind finding others of that kind. A shrug, a flirty smile. _Seven days?_ A blinked hesitation, a catch of breath, a question of if they are asking what you think - hope - they’re asking. _Long enough to destroy the world._

This cataclysm of hot-headed, duty-bound, comradery-tainted romance started somewhere. It is known that the origins of this poem are unknown; a total mystery. 

A mystery to all but two. 

There are two girls downstairs, and they hold hands before the entire tundra, older and wiser, and they are happy. It's easy now, simple. 

It wasn’t always.

* * *

The first day started with a nightmare, and Yue woke up with a scream lodged in her throat, thrashing the furry covers from her sweat-soaked body. She blinked and saw ice, saw two koi fish, saw water that burned, saw terror in her own reflection. She blinked, and it was gone again. 

The thing is, she thought she’d be able to get over it by now. The Siege of the North was years ago, a blip in a war that had now been won. Everyone else had moved on and, during the day, she did too. But the moment she closed her eyes to sleep, Yue relived every detail. 

Water was life, and to take someone’s waterbending was almost equivalent to taking their life. Yue traded it, traded that beautiful part of her soul, for her people. She couldn’t bring herself to regret that. In fact, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

She felt pathetic for the nightmares, for the doubts. She felt like she was wallowing. But the truth was, the war ended four years ago, and she felt just as hollow now as she did that day by the oasis. She’d been sixteen and restless with the urge to prove herself, to show her father and the elders that she was a good princess, that she loved her people with her entire being, to the point it wasn’t the kind of thing that could be measured. 

She thought she’d done it. Proven herself, that is. She thought by sacrificing an essence of her lifeforce, her soul, so that Tui could live on, that she would finally earn her place as Princess of the Northern Water Tribe, as Chief Arnook’s only child, as the sole heir to the chiefdom. 

Instead, Yue lost her waterbending, and soon, she would lose her freedom too. 

She'd bought herself a few years, that was all. 

But she’d do it again in a heartbeat. She'd do it again every time a moonbeam glimmered in the bitter sea, every time her white hair tumbled around her shoulders, every time she was able to quickly squeeze her father’s hand, every time her nightmares showed the firebender with the knife. She'd do it again, over and over, for her people. 

It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be measured. 

Yue raked a hand through her hair, the white locks falling loose around her shoulders, before padding over to her balcony. The Northern Water Tribe Royal Palace was built upon the highest tier of Agna Qel’a, so no matter where you stood in the city, you could see it. It was a symbol of power, a symbol of strength. It also had a beautiful view, and Yue found her breathing calming as she looked upon the city, _her_ city. Everything was made of ice, and it glimmered and coruscated beneath Tui. Yue could see the canal system, the healing huts, the dozens and dozens of homes, the lifted hoods of those still milling about in the night. If Yue closed off her mind, it was easy to pretend that everything was as it used to be, that she was a child again, that if she danced her fingers, she could call water to them, that she was happy to settle. 

_This_ , she thought, _is worth it_. 

A firm knock echoed through her room, and Yue almost rolled her eyes. 

“I’m fine, Aneko.” She said, keeping her tone neutral, swallowing the familiar frustration that weaved between her ribs. It was easy to pretend that everything was as it used to be, but Yue knew that pretending didn’t change things. This world was different, darker. She knew it, the people knew it, the council knew it. 

The Chief knew it. 

Chief Arnook had always coddled Yue, since her precarious start to life. He tiptoed around her like she was a fragile children’s toy. Yue had found it insufferable during her teenage years. If only she knew how bad it would get after that night at the Spirit Oasis. Her father realised that Yue wasn’t as safe as he’d hoped here, that if a single teenage boy could _swim_ into their ranks without conflict, then what was stopping Yue from being hurt again? Defences were improved, warriors trained more ferociously, and the single guard Yue had grown accustomed to trailing her since she learnt how to walk became three guards, and after a few years, even they were replaced. 

It was a controversial decision. A group of warriors with a reputation that had all the nations talking, a group of warriors perfect for defending a princess, was exactly what Chief Arnook wanted. 

But they were also a group of _female_ warriors, and the tribe had... opinions. 

In the end, Yue was decided to be more important than those opinions, and the warriors were sent for. 

Kyoshi Warriors, they were called. A group of young, Earth Kingdom girls in strange clothes with strange face-paint and strange fans. They'd been here for a few months now, and they were good at their job, which meant Yue couldn’t help the bitterness she grew for them. 

Everywhere she went, they followed. Everything she did, they watched. They were like shadows constantly breathing down her neck. She'd never had freedom, not as a princess, but she once had more than this, and now, it was unbearable. She wanted to be able to take care of herself. She wanted to know that if something horrible happened again, she could do more than sacrifice. She could _fight_. 

Aneko knocked again, and Yue bit her cheek to stop herself from grumbling. 

“I said I'm fine.” She called, trying to sound polite. Aneko was a nice girl, and she was the same age as Yue, which was nice, and with the kind of dimpled smile that came so easily, but she could also be stern. She was in charge. Well actually, she was second in command. The leader of the warriors was delayed a few months. Apparently, she was good friends with Fire Lord Iroh’s nephew, and was staying with him in Caldera City. She'd be here shortly. Another shadow in Yue’s convoy. 

To Yue’s outrage, the door slid open. She sucked in a breath to finally snap at Aneko, telling her once again where her boundaries lay and to leave her be, but when a girl in uniform entered her room, it was not Aneko. 

The first thing Yue noticed was the girl’s hair. It was a beautiful brown, like the bark of trees Yue had only ever seen in books, rich and curling around her sharp jaw, tickling her brows and brushing feather-light against chiselled cheekbones. It was pulled up into a half-knot, but the girl might as well have done it blind for how loose and messy it was, and Tui, Yue couldn’t help but want to reach over and gently fix it. Yue’s gaze flickered over the rest of the girl; the determined brown eyes with an undeniable spark of mischief, the strong posture, the pretty lips and soft lashes. She was wearing the Kyoshi Warrior uniform, its deep greens and bright yellows seeming luminescent against the pale landscape, and she wore it with pride, grit, like she’d been challenged on it one too many times, like she was ready to be challenged on it again. 

She was Yue’s age, and she was beautiful, and Yue momentarily forgot how to talk. 

“Your Highness, you’re out of bed.” The girl said, lips curling up into a teasing smirk. 

_Your Highness_. It snapped Yue out of her trance. She wasn’t a swooning teenager anymore. She was the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe. She was better than this. 

“I said I was fine.” Yue said, tone diplomatic. She’d mastered the art of speaking diplomatically. Yue realised quickly that she could get away with saying a lot of things if she only said them softly. That was what she meant by _diplomatic_. Insults shielded behind a pretty smile. Wit hidden beneath a wispy laugh. Anger masked by softness. 

“You did?” The girl asked, before making an uncouth ‘humph’ noise. “I guess ice doors are pretty soundproof. I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn’t check you were truly fine.” 

“Strange,” Yue raised a delicate eyebrow, catching the girl’s almost mocking tone, “every other guard I've had has been able to hear me just fine.” 

The girl held Yue’s stare, suddenly intrigued by her, before her face broke out into a luminous grin, a dimple appearing in her cheek. 

“Okay, fine! You got me.” She beamed with an easy laugh. “I’m bored out of my mind doing the night shift. I mean, I just stand there by the door for _hours_. And besides, we haven’t met yet.” And just like that, the girl strode forwards, stopping right in front of Yue. “Hello, I'm Suki, head of the Kyoshi Warriors.” 

_Suki_. Yue had to swallow the urge to echo the name back at the girl, mesmerised by the simple word. It was a beautiful name; all soft beginnings and hard endings. 

But then the rest of Suki’s sentence caught up to her, and the small smile Yue hadn’t authorised to grow on her lips faltered, the corners downturning at the other girl’s words. _Head of the Kyoshi Warriors_. 

Yue wasn’t proud of the resentful knot that twisted in her stomach, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Suki was probably nice. In fact, she seemed nice. Devastatingly so. But that didn’t change the fact that she was the head of the Kyoshi Warriors, and in turn, the person in charge of killing Yue’s freedom; the umbra blanketing Yue’s life. 

The silence simmered, and maybe Yue was tired after her nightmare or maybe she was just tired of these warriors, but she let her gaze glance over Suki, up and down, landing back on her eyes with a resolute stare. It was improper to be in Yue’s space like this. Everything Suki had done so far was improper. Yue had every right to act so chilly. 

So why did guilt bloom alongside her bitterness? Why did the girl’s oblivious proximity that went against every custom instilled in Yue since birth make her skin prickle? 

“I’m Yue,” she said simply, mimicking the layout of Suki’s own greeting, “Princess of the Northern Water Tribe. And as you can see, I'm fine. So you can go.” But coldness was never what Yue was good at, and she broke at the last moment, adding a soft ‘thank you’ and cursing herself for it afterwards. 

Suki’s eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, before she smiled a little. 

“I’d rather stay, just to be sure.” Suki said, and Yue blinked in surprise, but she wasn’t even given the chance to argue before Suki was moving again, drifting towards the bookshelves lining Yue’s walls. The shelves were made of a particularly strong kind of ice so that the books wouldn’t be damaged. They were Yue’s pride and joy, the chambers of her heart pressed between the pages, and she sucked in a breath as Suki got closer. 

“What are you _doing?_ ” Yue hissed, because she had quite clearly ordered-, _attempted_ to order this girl to leave. She couldn’t help but snap her gaze to the open door of her bedroom. This was beyond improper, and Yue didn’t want someone seeing; the palace was full of gossips. 

“Oh, so you’re a book nerd.” Suki said thoughtfully as she traced her finger along the spines, and despite her larger-than-life atmosphere, her touch was tentative, more of a caress, and Yue couldn’t look away. “Just like Sokka and Zuko. You know, I just got away from their idiocy, and now you too?” 

The sound of Sokka’s name, spoken after months of Yue not seeing the boy in question, was enough to distract Yue from the implication that Suki might have just called her books ‘idiocy’. 

“You know Sokka?” She asked, hopeful. She missed him more than she cared to admit. 

Suki grinned over her shoulder. “Yep, Zuko’s the Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe now, and Sokka was visiting him in Caldera when I was there. I’ve left Ty Lee with them to keep things orderly, but ever since the boys figured out how actual human emotions work and finally got back together, none of the guards there stand a chance. The other week Sokka carried Zuko out of a meeting to get him to go to bed. There’s gotta be some rule about that, but he just manhandles the literal son of Ozai and we all let him. It's good though. Keeps Zuko humble.” Suki laughed, fondness for her friends clear on her face, oblivious to the way Yue had accidentally started hanging from her every word, heart swelling at the confirmation that Sokka was okay, he was happy, he was dating the Fire Lord’s nephew. Again. Yue knew a little about their relationship, though it was complicated in itself. Something about the Boiling Rock prison. They were together for years, and then took a break, and now it seemed they were back. Yue was glad. The way Sokka’s eyes shone when he spoke about Zuko was one of the rawest expressions of love Yue had ever seen. 

Without missing a beat, Suki looked back to the books. “These are impressive.” 

“Are you quite done?” Yue asked, catching up to the other girl and looking over her shoulder to ensure she wasn’t damaging anything. 

Suki paused suddenly, and Yue almost walked into her back, Suki turning so that they were face to face, the cold air prickling over Yue’s arms. Suki was taller than her, her arms twisting with muscle as she reached beside Yue’s head for a book. 

“Is there a reason,” Suki said quietly, a smile teasing her lips, “that you have a book on trees?” 

An embarrassed flush shot up Yue’s neck as she snatched the book off Suki. “Well, we don’t exactly have an abundance of them here.” 

Suki snorted, as if Yue had surprised her, and it was such a sudden, informal sound that Yue could only blink owlishly at how endearing it was. From this close, Yue could see the beautiful golden thread of Suki’s uniform, the slight smudge of red lipstick beside her lips. Suki smelt of something wild and earthy, and Yue’s gaze dropped to the book in her hands. Kyoshi Island. Earth Kingdom. There would be trees there, forests of them. Yue tried to remember what the book said. _The main tree of Kyoshi Island is the pine tree_. Was that it then? Did Suki smell of pine? Was that what was making Yue’s head feel foggy? 

Yue had never seen a forest before. 

“Poetry?” Suki said suddenly, and Yue looked up to see the girl’s sharp gaze had turned back to the books, noticing the shelves and shelves Yue had dedicated to poetry alone. Yue flushed darker, her passion laid out before this stranger. Her love of poetry was a secret between her and Tui, on the nights she would sit on her balcony and read out the verses that made her heart cry. 

Yue had never seen love. Not really. Not the kind of love the poets spoke of. Her mother lived in her memories and her father had never found another, and Yue was so coddled that she was hidden from things like that. Love was not part of duty. She would marry soon, the betrothal necklace resting heavy on her throat enough to choke her. These few years had been suffocating, but Chief Arnook called them freedom. After what happened at the Spirit Oasis, after Hahn proved to be a little less capable than previously thought, Yue’s father decided Yue wasn’t ready to be wed. Translated to; he wasn’t ready to let her go. 

But her time was running out. Hahn was a man now, and she was a woman, and that was how it went. 

“It explains things.” Yue said quietly, staring at the moonlight sliding over the ice. “There isn’t a feeling in the world that poetry can’t explain.” 

She didn’t say that she’d never been allowed to think for herself, so had no way of interpreting her own feelings. She didn’t say that she was terrified of what was coming towards her. She didn’t say that, in these pages, the poets spoke of anger, and she read those lines feverishly, as if breaking the law. She’d never been allowed to be angry. Princesses weren’t angry, and besides, anger was for the men, the warriors. 

Suki hummed, and Yue realised she was staring at her. “I’ve never been into poetry. It always seemed so boring, for those deep-thinkers like you.” She jerked a teasing eyebrow and Yue didn’t know how to react. “But that’s a pretty cool way of looking at it, Your Highness.” 

Yue was aware of how pathetic it was that her heart jumped in excitement at the prospect of sharing this small hobby of hers. She pushed it down. _Head of the Kyoshi Warriors, remember?_ Yue thought, before carefully putting her books back in place, smoothing her expression. 

“Yes well,” she said, surprising herself by how authoritative her tone was, “I’m going back to bed now.” 

Suki finally got the hint, smiling knowingly like she knew Yue was trying to get rid of her, like that in itself had presented a challenge, one she was willing to take. 

“Of course,” Suki said with a small bow, looking up at Yue through long eyelashes, “goodnight, princess.” 

Yue swallowed, and didn’t move. Even when the door shut behind Suki and Yue was alone again with nothing but her books for company, as always, she still didn’t move. She kept seeing Suki’s sharp smile and even sharper eyes, the way she’d leaned a little too close to Yue as she reached for her books. It should have infuriated her, and it did – Suki had completely invaded Yue’s space, ignoring her orders and snooping through her things – but with that frustration, Yue couldn’t help the way her cheeks were still burning, her room still ghosting the smell of a land Yue had never known. 

_Suki_ , Yue thought. 

It really was a nice name.

* * *

The second day was actually a few days later. Yue was sitting back in the gondola, hand dipped into the water of the canal and feeling nothing but _cold_ as the water brushed between her fingers, the city sights drifting lazily past her. She loved doing this. It gave her time to herself, and time to see her people, even if only from a gondola instead of up close. 

But still, she felt them. Heavy eyes, unsubtle uniforms, warriors trailing her from the sidelines of the canals. If she so much as moved, or even _blinked_ , they would see. The Kyoshi Warriors were heartbreakingly good at their job. 

“-and then _I_ said- I said... Yue?” 

Suki wasn’t one of the warriors shadowing Yue today, she noticed. She always noticed. The warriors thought they were so inconspicuous, thought Yue was just a weak little princess for them to protect, but Yue wasn’t a pushover. That's why she started reading. She'd always loved her books, but when she lost her bending, she lost any means to stand up for herself. That vulnerability was terrifying, so she began to read, sharpening her mind, her wit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to notice Suki had been weirdly absent from the warriors’ ranks today. 

“Yue? Yue, are you even listening?” Hahn huffed, finally losing his patience from the other side of the gondola, and Yue blinked in surprise, turning to him. She'd zoned out. _Maybe if you stopped talking about yourself_ , Yue thought bitterly, _I’d find it more interesting_. 

But she didn’t say that, of course. 

Yue smiled. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well and it’s hard to concentrate, you were saying something about the new recruits?” 

Hahn, rebolstered, continued on valiantly. After all, Yue was just a passive – rather _captive_ \- audience to him. 

He'd grown into himself since their teenager years, tall and domineering and with sleek black hair tied back with a blue ribbon, and they were still engaged, her time running out until the day he became her husband, and Yue would lie with him and bear children, and despite her blood being royal, he would inherit the Chiefdom, and Yue would sit quietly at his side, having killed a part of herself that night at the Spirit Oasis for this. 

And it was okay. It was her father’s will. It was her duty. 

“So I told them that _I’m_ a seasoned warrior, that I have the _Chief’s_ favour,” Hahn was saying, chest puffed up cockily, “and I'm not saying they were in awe, but you should’ve seen their faces. I guess I am pretty impressive to them.” 

Yue didn’t know much about love, but she knew she didn’t love Hahn. That wasn’t a problem though; he loved himself plenty to make up for it. 

She ducked down her chin into her anorak to hide her smirk at the thought, just as the canal turned to flow beside one of the smaller city plazas, the snowy clearing flat and always empty at this time in the morning. Always, except today, because there, neat and orderly, stood a group of Kyoshi Warriors. 

The Northern Water Tribe wasn’t known for its warmth, but the girls wore sleeveless tunics and thin trousers, sweat coating their skin regardless as they moved through various stances, hitting and blocking, and at the front, her hair pulled back messily and her face flushed with exertion as she instructed her warriors, was Suki. 

Her makeup was gone, meaning each blush, each bead of sweat, each concentrated line of her face was almost jarringly visible, and she looked suddenly so impossibly young. Her untouchable façade in Yue’s room had fallen to reveal someone human, someone able to be touched. 

Without the weight of the Kyoshi Warrior uniform, Yue could see the muscle lining the other girl’s arms, the way her shoulder blades moved beneath her tunic as she entered each stance with an elegance Yue had never associated with combat, strength oozing so effortlessly from Suki. 

“Kayda,” Suki barked, brown eyes honing in on one of the girls, “concentrate.” 

Kayda was a wild card of a warrior, always snickering something to her girlfriend, Keiko, when she was on guard duty. Yue liked her as much as she could like a Kyoshi Warrior, liked her slightly evil grin, liked her spiky brown hair and sharp green eyes, liked her ability to argue with almost anything. In a tunic like this, Yue swore she saw a small tattoo on the girl’s shoulder. 

“I _am_ concentrating.” Kayda growled, following the drill with a slightly aggressive kick. 

“Really?” Suki asked, smirking now. “Because your face is doing the thing it does when you stare too long at Keiko’s back muscles.” 

Keiko was stood in front of Kayda, long auburn hair swishing as she threw a lascivious wink over her shoulder at her girlfriend, and Aneko, the warrior Yue had seen the most of, enough to know she was usually the responsible one of the group with her steady gaze and faultless braid, shook her head with a laugh. 

Katara had changed things in the tribe all those years ago, and girls were allowed to learn combative waterbending now, but it was still new, and a lot of parents were against their daughters fighting, and a lot of the men still sneered. But here these women were, in the dim daylight that came from the northern winters, for all eyes to see, running through drills that Yue suspected even the seasoned, Chief-favoured Hahn would struggle to keep up with. It stirred something within Yue, something wild and hungry. 

“How are you finding the Kyoshi Warriors?” Hahn asked suddenly, and Yue snapped her gaze to him to see his lip curled up in disgust as he watched, and Yue hated the warriors, hated them enough to feel ashamed by it, because they truly were just doing what her father asked of them, but something about Hahn’s poisonous glare as he watched them train, about the proximity to him saying something about how ‘ _I don’t care if it makes me sound old-fashioned, I still don’t think it’s right_ ’, made her answer fall from her mouth without preamble, tone sharper than she intended but not enough for her to regret it. 

“They’re the best warriors I've ever had.” Yue said, unblinking as she stared Hahn down. 

He stuttered, surprised, before looking to his hands. _Chief voice_ , Yue thought, because that was what her father called it, eyes creasing at the sides as he laughed. He always said Yue had an excellent Chief voice, that she could beckon the ears of an entire room when she truly wanted to be heard. It didn’t matter though. He didn’t trust Yue any more for it, so what was the point? 

And why use it now? To defend the Kyoshi Warriors, of all people? Yue frowned, mind twisting at her sharp thoughts as she turned back to watch the women. 

And she swore, for just a moment, Suki’s gaze met her own, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she finished the drill with a hard punch to the air, chest heaving as she panted hard enough to send loose hairs flying around her face. Yue was transfixed, convincing herself she was only staring because she refused to blink first. 

That night, she dreamt of fighting, of being able to stand her ground. 

She dreamt of strength in a girl’s arms, of shoulders, of skin, the smell of pine and freedom. 

It was the worst nightmare of all, in a way.

* * *

The third day saw Suki on night duty, bowing curtly to Yue as she entered her chambers for bed but not saying anything else, and Yue cursed herself for feeling... not _hurt_ , but _something_. That first day, Suki had swaggered into Yue’s room like she owned the place, her smile thawing each icy wall, and that day at the plaza, the space between their glares had been tense, an oncoming storm, an unspoken question that Yue didn’t understand yet. Suki had been here for over a week now, quietly watching Yue, and it was driving Yue insane. 

With a small sigh, Yue pulled her parka tighter and slipped off her slippers to leave her in fur stockings as she padded over to the bed. 

And then she froze. 

Because there was something there. 

A tiny piece of parchment, folded neatly in half and placed on Yue’s pillow. 

Yue’s heart began to race, questions firing through her mind as she tried to comprehend why such a mundane thing could possibly look so completely out of place. Tentatively, Yue unfolded the parchment, sitting down on the edge of her bed, hugging a knee to her chest as her fingers smoothed over carefully inked words. 

It was a _poem_. It was a _hand-written poem_ , the prose scratched but neat. 

_Watching the moon  
at dawn,  
solitary, mid-sky,  
I knew myself completely,  
no part left out  
\- Izumi Shikibu_

Yue’s heart thumped in her chest at a bruising speed, her blue eyes flicking over the words once, twice, three times, memorising them before she even realised she was memorising them, fingers gently tracing the prose, wondering whose hand could possibly have written such a thing. It was beautiful. Yue didn’t recognise the poet. Yue, who prided herself on her vast knowledge of the tribe’s literature. But a name like _Izumi Shikibu_ was not Water Tribe. No, she sounded... Earth Kingdom. Or perhaps Fire Nation. 

It was something new, something bright and shiny in a world Yue had learnt all the secrets to a long time ago, and she marvelled at it. _I knew myself completely, no part left out_. Such a thing seemed so tender, so vulnerable. If Yue knew herself completely, she wouldn’t know what to do. She wasn’t brave enough for that. 

Who was? Who wrote this? 

As Yue jumped to her feet and flung open her doors, Hahn didn’t once cross her mind. 

“Did you see who left this?” Yue asked, near breathless as she hung desperately off the handle, staring Suki down. The warrior didn’t even flinch, and from here, her makeup looked spotless. No sign of the girl Yue met in her room with a hint of smudged lipstick. No sign of the girl training outside, face bare to reveal nothing but determination. 

Suki flicked her eyes to the parchment clutched tightly in Yue’s hand, before shrugging. “Nope,” she said, popping the _‘p’_ , “how peculiar.” 

But Yue was telling the truth when she told Hahn that the Kyoshi Warriors were the best she’d ever had. It’s why she hated them so much. They were a relentless presence, a heavy spectator as constant as the moon. _The moon, at dawn, solitary._

Suki was lying, but Yue’s mouth felt dry, words failing her. _Solitary_. 

Yue lost her waterbending so that the moon could live on, and here she was, Spirit-touched and daughter of royalty, spending her days wallowing, waiting always for someone else to save her. 

Yue was no damsel. She didn’t know herself completely, but she knew that. 

She straightened, all the regalia of if she were wearing formal robes and not stockings and nightwear, and stared Suki down. 

“I want you to teach me how to fight.” 

And Suki grinned, like she’d been waiting for this.

* * *

The tribe was a hereditary monarchy practising absolute primogeniture. However, if the Chief had only a daughter as an heir, she would have no right to inherit the Chiefdom. Yue’s marriage to Hahn was a security for Chief Arnook, a political move for Hahn, and a necessity for the tribe to continue. Yue had been protected her entire life. From a sickly child to a quiet girl to a princess who nearly died. She was a weak, fragile thing, and she needed defending. 

And Yue had gone her entire life settling for that. She settled for Hahn, she settled for the Kyoshi Warriors, she settled for never truly knowing the anger within her. 

These nights with Suki were one thing she would take for herself, grasping them and refusing to let go. 

The fourth day. The night after the poem. Yue met Suki in a different clearing to the one she’d seen her training in. This one was more secluded, round the back of the palace where the balconies couldn’t quite overlook. Good. If Yue’s father found out she was learning how to fight, if he heard even a whispered implication that Yue – weak, fragile Yue - wanted to start defending herself, he’d be enraged. 

The two didn’t speak at first, blue eyes locking on brown as Yue stopped uncertainly, leaving a good distance between her and Suki. Suki's makeup was gone again, leaving her younger looking, skin smooth, and... and she had freckles dusting her nose, a few trailing up her cheekbones-. 

“I prefer a practical approach when teaching.” Suki said, confident, like she’d done this a hundred times before. “We’ll do some sparring. I'll come at you, and as we’re moving, I'll talk you through some basic defence moves.” She’d just settled her feet into a firmer position when Suki hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

And suddenly, Yue understood. She'd seen Suki as rude that first day, obnoxious even, but maybe that was her bias against the Kyoshi Warriors, because in this icy clearing with Tui’s rays making Suki’s soft features glow, Yue realised Suki was less rude and more... excitable. Extroverted; no filter. Formalities came late if at all, but it wasn’t out of disrespect. 

Yue smiled, putting the other girl out of her misery with a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “After you.” 

Suki seemed intrigued by Yue’s sudden confidence, narrowing her eyes. A moment later, Suki had closed the space between them, and just as Yue’s breath caught in her throat, something hit her ankle and she tumbled to the ice. 

“Ow!” Yue hissed, glaring up at Suki, who was trying and failing to hide her laughter. 

“Sorry,” Suki said, offering a hand up, “I wanted to see what your reactions were like.” 

“Well _tellingly_ not very good.” Yue was trying not to sulk, but the way Suki pressed her lips together to hide any further laughter said she’d already noticed. With a huff, Yue grabbed Suki’s hand, fingers interlocking, warm despite the cold air. 

Suki pulled Yue to her feet like she didn’t weigh a thing, and Yue had to force herself not to watch how the other girl’s arms moved, had to force herself not to miss the contact when Suki inevitably pulled away. 

“Again.” Suki said, and Yue just had time to whelp and duck in surprise before the warrior swung for her. 

“Did you just try to punch me?” Yue asked, bewildered. People didn’t often try to _punch_ the _princess_ , and they never got away with it. 

“You wanted to learn how to fight, right?” Suki asked, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to take the stick out your ass first.” 

Yue tried not to look too affronted, huffing nonetheless and glaring at Suki when she darted forward again, Yue just managing to hop to the side. She may not have been a waterbender anymore, but she still had a smoothness to her actions. 

“This doesn’t feel like the safest way of learning.” Yue said, backtracking away from Suki’s terrifying reflexes. 

Suki laughed, a bright, easy thing. “Is the poet giving me tips?” 

Yue felt her cheeks heat up, shakily raising her fists upon a quick instruction from Suki. “I’m not a poet.” 

“Why not?” Suki asked, pushing forward. “You have too many books on it not to have written some yourself.” 

And Yue didn’t know how to say that, even with a royal’s vocabulary, she still couldn’t find the words to make her inner tempests coherent. 

“What about you?” Yue said, deflecting Suki’s question but not being so lucky with Suki’s fist, which once again stopped moments away from cracking against Yue’s skin. “What’s your problem with poetry?” 

Suki shrugged, stepping back to re-start their sparring. “It just never interested me. Words are words. Just a bunch of letters spelling out some sentimental mumbo-jumbo.” 

“How can you say that?” The question slipped out of her, harsh and clipped before Yue could stop it, and she forced herself to take a deep breath, trying again. 

“You might not like poetry,” Yue said, and Suki paused, surprised by Yue’s sudden calmness, “but words are powerful, almost as powerful as your weapons, or a waterbender’s bending. Just as powerful, even.” 

Suki narrowed her eyes, listening, thinking. “If you truly believe that,” she said, “then why don’t you give yourself more credit?” 

“What do you mean?” Yue blinked in surprise. 

“I mean,” Suki said, chuckling a little, “I've been watching you this entire time, and you let everyone around you make your decisions. You think you’re weak, but you have all those books, all those words, and you said yourself that you think they’re powerful. Why don’t you think _you_ are powerful, Yue?” 

Yue stared, stammering over something to say. _Because I'm not, because I never have been, because no one gave me the chance to be._

Yue had settled for things her entire life, but Suki was coaxing her out of her comfort zone, and that was terrifying. That couldn’t happen. Yue had a duty. 

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and lunged for Suki, sparring again, not even noticing when they’d stopped. Suki seemed indignant, but fell back into the flow of it after a while. She must have been able to tell that Yue was still fuming beneath the surface though, because Yue’s movements were sharp, angry, and when Yue whirled once again on Suki, she didn’t even flinch. 

“Are you this forward with everyone?” Yue snapped, grabbing Suki’s wrist. 

Suki got out of her grip easily, managing to use Yue’s momentum to twist her, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling Yue’s back flush against her chest in one swift movement. 

“Yes,” Suki said lowly, lips close to Yue’s ear, “but especially with the ones I like.” 

Her anger disappeared in a heartbeat. Yue was pretty sure she stopped breathing altogether. 

And that’s how, hours later, Yue found herself hunched over, hands on her knees as she desperately got her breath back, stripped of her parka to leave her in knee-length trousers and a puffin-sealskin underlayer. It was beyond improper, but propriety went out the window after Suki floored Yue for the fifth time and the furs of Yue’s multiple layers of clothing – designed to insulate against the pole’s bitter chill – became stifling. Now, sweaty and exhausted, white hair pulled back messily from her face, Yue caught Suki looking at her. 

Suki had given her so much advice tonight, and Yue listened eagerly, excitement humming beneath her skin because this was against the rules, and there was a thrill to that. With every swing, every grasped shoulder and clipped knee, Suki gave pointers, and Yue slowly got better. She was hardly a match for Suki, and wouldn’t be for a very long time, if ever, but she was a good listener, and she understood things quickly. _Distract your opponent_ , Suki had said at one point, _use any moment of hesitation against them._

And, well, Suki was _looking at her_. Her brown gaze was heavy enough to make Yue feel short of breath all over again, like something was crushing her chest. Yue didn’t know what the warrior was looking at, what had caught her so off guard, but Yue did know that a competitiveness had hung in the air for a while now, punctuated with sarcastic quips and attempts at baiting each other, and she did know that Suki - the great _Head of the Kyoshi Warriors_ – was currently distracted. 

It was sloppy, rushed, but Yue managed to close the gap between them and hook her leg behind Suki’s, before giving up on any sort of learned technique in favour of shoving her weight against the other girl until they were both toppling down, down, down. 

The rush of victory fled from her falling grin, because Yue’s knees were bracketing Suki’s hips, one hand planted firmly against the ice beside Suki’s head and the other resting on the warrior’s shoulder from where she’d pushed her down, and Yue really, _really_ hadn’t thought this through, because she couldn’t move. Suki was there, pinned beneath her, and Yue was frozen, staring at where, on day one, the lipstick had been smudged, and where day two’s hair had curled with sweat and hard work, day three’s knowing smirk now forming parted lips, a slowly released breath. Day four’s freckles, sun-kissed from a warmer land, a constellation showing the way home. 

Yue thought the girl before her was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

“Why?” Yue whispered, and that single word was at once everything and not enough. 

“Gonna have to be more specific, princess.” Suki said, lips curling into a smile, but there was something wrong with it, something wrong with the way shivers danced over Yue’s skin at the word _princess_. A word she’d heard her entire life that sounded new from Suki’s lips. 

“You claim to find words meaningless, but I know you left that poem.” Yue hissed, glaring now, desperate for a need to _know_. “Why? Why agree to help me? Why come into my room like that when we met? Why say all those things before? Why- just _why?_ ” 

Confusion. That was what had ransacked Yue’s mind. Confusion, because she was so close to this beautiful girl, and Suki hadn’t pushed her away, hadn’t tried to put a stop to this. Suki kept on giving, despite Yue’s coolness when they met and moodiness in between and constant refusal to give back. 

Suki jutted out her chin, as if going into battle, and spoke so simply and with such utter conviction that it left Yue speechless. 

“You fascinate me.” Suki whispered, brown eyes staring into blue without flinching. “Sokka told me about you, when he found out I was coming here. He said you were so much more than a pretty royal, said you had a spine of steel and a heart of gold. When we met, I was intrigued, and when you sent me away like that, I thought ‘huh, seems he was wrong about her.’” Here, Suki moved, slowly moving her hands back and pushing her palms into the ice, lifting her torso to parallel Yue’s and chasing Yue’s head back until their faces were unbearably close. “But I didn’t see it then. I didn’t see _you_. I think I do now, though.” 

Yue was almost too scared to talk, too scared to break whatever spell Suki was casting. She wanted to fall, fall into this girl and her unblinking, all-seeing gaze. They were so close, bodies pressed together and neither seeming particularly keen to change that predicament anytime soon, and Yue couldn’t help the way her gaze dropped shamelessly to the curve of Suki’s lips. Parted, open, hungry, breath coming out shakily, and it would take nothing at all for Yue to close the distance between them, find out if pine had a taste, softly at first, and then cataclysmic. 

Instead, Yue somehow found the presence of mind to speak. 

“Well,” she breathed, “what do you see?” 

She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t for Suki’s eyebrows to furrow, working her jaw as if frustrated. 

“Do you love him?” She asked suddenly, tersely. 

Yue's head flinched back in surprise. “Hahn?” 

“Yes,” Suki said, “do you love him?” 

Yue swallowed, the air heavy around them, and she realised with all the harshness of waking up from a dream that she was still on top of Suki, effectively straddling the other girl. She tried to make it smooth when she swung off her, hopping to her feet. She swore she saw disappointment on the other girl’s face, unabashed. 

Yue collected her clothes, quickly pulling them back on in an attempt to replicate the warmth Suki had provided and letting her hair fall back around her shoulders, a curtain of white, the colour of grieving in some places. 

“It is not my duty to love him.” Yue said resolutely, and she walked away. 

The next morning, she found some parchment slid under her door, and she unfolded it with the same feverish excitement as the first time. 

_Which is better,  
the distant lover  
you long for  
or the one you see daily  
without desire?  
\- Izumi Shikibu_

Yue felt fire in her stomach, licking along her sternum, a sad laugh being all that escaped her. The irony of it, of the girl who hated poetry choosing the same poet twice. The irony of it, of being entranced by the warrior protecting her until she had a husband to do it. Lover. Desire. It was a slap to the face, and a declaration, twisted between the lines. Yue was missing something. No, not _missing_ something. She knew what was starting to come alive here beneath her fingers, and she was choosing to look away. 

She had to look away. 

Hastily, Yue got out her writing kit and inked down words she knew from memory. She left the parchment in a small crack in the ice outside her room, somewhere Suki’s sharp gaze would find it. 

_I am cautious.  
The moon,  
It can barely be sensed,  
It cannot be helped.  
\- Joan Naviyuk Kane_

* * *

The fifth day and Yue met Suki in the clearing again, and they sparred until sweat slid over Yue’s temples, and they didn’t speak. Not a word. It made Suki slower, eyes fitful, and it made Yue resilient, because she had been raised with this suppression. 

It was devastating, that silence, and Yue hoped Suki heard what she didn’t say. 

_If words are powerless, then why does the lack of them unsettle you?_

_If words are powerless, why does their surrender make you stumble?_

It felt like something was ending, a death being drawn out between two not ready to let it go. It was such a small thing, they never gave it the chance or time to bloom, but it was still there.

* * *

Their sixth encounter was almost a week later. Suki didn’t show up in the clearing to spar, she hugged the shadows as she guarded Yue, she didn’t speak to her, she didn’t look at her. Yue didn’t know why, hated the way her heart shrivelled in her chest every time brown eyes slid right over her, and then one day, as Yue was walking to meet with her father to discuss the annual peace summit that it was their turn to host, she dipped her hands into her pockets, wearing the same parka she’d taken to spar with Suki that last time, and they brushed against the familiar coarse edges of parchment. She told herself over and over that whatever happened between her and Suki was going, and that was a good thing. Maybe in a world where Yue could become Chief in her own right, she would chase Suki, she would fight for her. But that wasn’t the world Yue lived in. 

So why, _Tui and La_ why, did her heart stutter? Why did she hide in the soonest alcove, grinning giddily like a teenager passing love notes? Why did relief crash over her at the realisation that maybe Suki’s sudden coldness could be explained by something as simple as a mistake, as thinking Yue was ignoring her, as a mundane misunderstanding? 

It was a new poet, for Suki and for Yue. 

_It is poetry which effortlessly awakens the world of invisible Spirits to deep feeling,  
and consoles the hearts of fierce warriors  
\- Ono no Komachi_

Yue read it enough times that her vision began to swim, insisting she must have interpreted it wrong. 

But there was Suki’s handwriting that Yue felt she could trace in her sleep with the amount of times she returned to the other girl’s words, and there was this poem, speaking of itself and its own wonders, and here, Suki was giving the control back to Yue. _Consoles the hearts of fierce warriors._

It was an olive branch in their stand-off, not an apology or an explanation, of both Yue knew she owed, but just another chance. Suki wasn’t giving up. Suki wasn’t giving up and that was a bad thing, but Yue couldn’t help the smile on her face, the way her fingers brushed against her throat, beneath her necklace, against her thrumming pulse, where Suki’s breath had once landed. _Especially with the ones I like._

Yue was tired of settling. 

Yue was grabbing this chance with both hands, and she wasn’t going to let go. 

But not now. Yue had to meet with her father, and besides, she had an idea...

* * *

Seven days of Suki, and Yue slipped a piece of parchment beneath her door, hearing the near-silent slide of it against the ice before it settled beside where she knew Suki was standing. 

It was a simple line, but one of her favourites all the same. 

_At night, this side of things is settled without the memory of ache.  
\- Lehua M. Taitano_

Yue thought she had more dignity than pressing her ear against the door, ignoring the chill it sent through half her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel ashamed when she heard a huff of surprise, a murmured ‘that _bitch_ ’ that was so _Suki_ it made Yue’s stomach curl, and she was grinning into her hand, the same thrill she got when they were sparring as she quickly toed on her slippers, lighting a candle because the corridors would be inavigable in the dark. 

As Yue predicted, Suki flung open the door, Kyoshi Warrior uniform and makeup on for the world to see. 

“So you go days not saying anything and then you send this?” Suki asked, storming into Yue’s chambers like that in itself was not a near-treasonous thing to do. “What does this even _mean_ -...?” Suki cut herself off, freezing as she saw Yue dressed and ready. “What are you…?” 

“I want to show you something.” Yue said, as if sharing a secret, and before her confidence ran out, she grabbed Suki’s hand and led her back out into the corridor. For a few moments, Suki hesitated, letting Yue drag her along, the candleflame flickering against the icy walls of the sleeping palace, and then she took a deep breath, squeezing Yue’s hand tight. 

Every noise was deafening and the way the shadows of the candle made the lines of Suki’s face swoop was criminal, and they snuck through the palace, fingers locked, and every now and then, they’d hear someone and it would see them ducking into an alcove, Suki’s gaze obliviously fixed on the corridors as she pressed against a dazed Yue. Yue almost pouted when the footsteps receded, but then they were alone again, a manic spark of intrigue in Suki’s eyes as Yue pulled her along. 

“Where are you taking me?” Suki asked, brown eyes incendiary. 

Yue finally stopped them outside two grand doors, and with one last, ominous smirk, she opened them. 

“To a room built with words.” 

She was trying to school her features, Yue could tell, but the moment Yue opened the doors to reveal the Northern Water Tribe’s Royal Library, Suki couldn’t help the impressed gasp that slipped her lips. It was one of Yue’s favourite places in the entire world, and she was pretty sure even if she ever did travel, even if she ever did see forests and foreign lands, that this would _still_ be one of her favourite places in the entire world. 

“There’s so many books. I thought...” Suki whispered, striding into the library to dance her hands over the towering bookshelves, the dusty cases of novels and poems and historical texts. “I thought the Northern Tribe’s literary tradition was still reasonably new.” 

“It’s two or three centuries old, at most,” Yue said, trailing Suki like she had that first day, “but before the war, we traded with the Earth Kingdom a lot. Some of their texts are still here. And the tribespeople have always had a beautiful way with words, it just always used to be word of mouth.” 

Yue walked ahead, and Suki followed without hesitation, like Yue was worthy of that, like Yue stood without Hahn at her side was enough to follow. 

“I used to come here all the time growing up, this spot.” Yue said as she led them to a crook in between two bookshelves at the back of the library. It didn’t look like much at first, just a small ledge to sit on and read, but the closer they walked, the more obvious it became. 

There was a window here, a small, circular thing, and it looked out onto the vast tundra, the sky a twinkling chaos of stars, and there, cloudless and unapologetic, was Tui, moonlight streaming directly through this window, as if she was approving. 

Yue sat down, and Suki grinned at the expectant look Yue threw her, before rushing forward and sitting in front of her, back to the wall and knees tucking up to her chest. The air was tensed and charged between them, and Yue was aware of every inch of Suki that she was inadvertently pressed against. 

For a moment, Yue just let herself stare. 

“What?” Suki asked, sceptical, and Yue just smiled knowingly, before pulling a piece of parchment from her pocket. 

“Another one?” Suki said, already reaching for it. 

Yue let her grasp it, raising an eyebrow. “So it _was_ you leaving them.” 

“Please, you figured it out ages ago.” Suki scoffed, unfolding the parchment with a surprising amount of care, nothing like Yue’s desperate fingers. “You’re too smart not to have done.” 

She said it so easily that Yue almost missed it. Suki was like that, she was learning. Suki gave compliments so easily, and still claimed that words were just words. 

But the poem Yue had given her would be the one to change that. It had to. It was her favourite, and she hadn’t been able to figure out why until Suki arrived. 

_In seven days, she destroyed your world  
for the next seven, eat with your fingers  
& trust only the moon.  
\- No’u Revilla _

Yue watched Suki’s brown eyes flick over the words, tracing down and jumping up again to re-read, her breath catching. It was quiet for a long time, long enough for Yue to feel the blood crawling up her neck to flush her cheeks, confidence quickly melting into nerves as she waited and waited and waited. 

“Yue.” Suki whispered, and she said those three letters like they were a poem in their own right. 

“Suki.” Yue answered, trying for teasing but only managing a breathy awe. They were so close. 

Suki moved slowly, fingers hovering over Yue’s ankle that was pressed near her hip, before gliding up her leg, her knee. She had to lean forward a little to brush Yue’s thigh, and Yue sucked in a sharp breath, mesmerised as Suki’s hair fell forward, as the warrior slotted herself so easily against Yue while still feeling so weightless. She was holding back, the muscles in her arms tensed as if she was physically restraining herself from Yue, and balancing until they were sharing the same air, too close and not enough. Yue's heart was doing dangerous things in her chest, but she couldn’t move. This was wrong, she knew that, but she was at Suki’s mercy, and _she liked it._

“This can’t...” Yue started, before swallowing when her voice came out as a pathetic croak, blue eyes flicking down to Suki’s lips momentarily. Tui, she was a _breath_ away. "This can't happen.” 

“Tell me to stop.” Suki said, no hesitation, no wobble of words. Clear and determined and _desperate_. 

And Yue realised that she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell Suki to stop, because she knew Suki would. Suki would do anything she asked. Suki was giving her that power. 

Yue had to be strong, so she took a deep breath, closing her eyes to regain her thoughts, before opening them. Carefully, she pushed some of Suki’s hair behind her ear, following the movement if only to avoid the other girl’s hard gaze, and then, Yue began to talk. 

“Do you know what happened here?” Yue asked quietly, delicately, daring to, in this room so overpopulated by them, find the words. “Do you know about the Siege of the North?” 

Suki blinked, expression falling into something serious, and she nodded, Yue’s hand ghosting over her cheekbone. “I heard about the militaristic side of it after it happened, but Sokka told me the-... Sokka told me about you.” 

Yue had never spoken to anyone about it. Sokka had made a special place in her heart, and Katara had been a true friend, and she saw them both at least a few times a year, but after the siege, they had to leave to carry on Aang’s journey, and Yue was left alone again. Her father never let her go anywhere without at least three guards for a long time, and the only person her age she was allowed to speak to was Hahn. Conceited, air-headed Hahn. She hadn’t realised it was making her feelings bubble up within her, boiling and burning her from the inside out, until she met Suki, who said everything she felt and had her heart on her sleeve. 

Suki was so open because she didn’t believe words were powerful. 

Yue was so closed-off because she knew they were. 

“It’s just,” Yue started, nervous as she dropped her hands, head falling to watch them make fists in her parka, “I don’t regret it. How could I? But I just can’t get over it. I still dream about it, it’s always there, it shows up when I'm not expecting it, the most ridiculous things make me think of it. And I just feel so powerless, all the time. And I’m supposed to, because I'm a princess and I'm not going to inherit the Chiefdom, which means I'm powerless. But I don’t... I don’t want to be.” 

Yue didn’t say that she’d been happy to settle for _powerless_ until Suki, that she would have been able to live like this if Suki hadn’t given her a taste of what it was like to fight for yourself, a taste of freedom, the smell of that damned pine. 

Now, Yue wanted to fight. She wanted to fight for her own power while still remembering her duty to her people. The two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive, and that was something Yue realised all on her own. 

“The power’s right there, Yue.” Suki whispered, a crooked finger gently tilting Yue’s chin back so that she was forced to look the warrior in the eye. “It’s always been with you. All you have to do is grab it.” 

And Suki felt like a war ending, felt like finding a word in a dead language and letting it live on in your mind, felt like memories of moonlight, felt like forests with no trails and a promise of _lost_ or _freedom_ and a coin toss of which fate you met. And they were so close, Suki’s finger on Yue’s jaw and her free hand beside Yue’s hip, agonisingly far away, curving into Yue’s space but leaving the last bit of distance up to Yue. And Yue wanted it. Wanted the risk, wanted the chance, wanted to trust like that and be trusted in turn. 

She wanted Suki. 

And Suki was teaching Yue to want herself, too. 

Yue glanced down to Suki’s lips once more, imagining the taste of her lipstick, the bite of words muffled by her own mouth, and she leaned forward ever so slightly, pushing into Suki’s touch, watching the bob of Suki’s throat as Yue made her choice. 

She hesitated for a single moment, before grabbing Suki with both hands and crushing her mouth against hers. It was hot, hard, and Suki tensed before melting into Yue’s touch, her own hands tangling themselves in Yue’s white hair in an attempt to pull her closer. It was sweet and overwhelming and Yue’s mind was an ocean drowning her and leaving her shipwrecked on the coast of Suki’s heart. Her body acted instinctively, remembering all the curses people had let slip around her over the years because _fuck_ , this was wrong, and they shouldn’t be here, and they could get caught, but the messy angle of Suki’s lips, the curl of fingers as Yue finally got to touch those unshaking shoulders, the way Suki looped an arm around Yue and pulled her completely against her, back to the ice now and Suki everywhere at once – how could _this_ possibly be wrong? 

Suki pulled away and Yue couldn’t help the short gasp that tore down her throat as Suki pushed her betrothal necklace down a little too harshly, moving her mouth to trace the thrumming pulse on Yue’s neck. 

“Do you do this with all your guards, Your Highness?” Suki asked, and Yue felt her smile against her skin, voice dark and husky, hungry and enamoured. And it jolted Yue, that reminder of who she was. The Princess of the Northern Water Tribe, and yet here she was, breathless in the library at midnight with a warrior’s hands sliding over her skin. The thought of it made her heart race, a dangerous defiance leaping down her spine as she snagged another kiss from Suki. 

“Only,” she let her fingers run up Suki’s thigh, revelling in the other girl’s shiver, “with the ones I like.” 

And that, of course, was the exact moment that the doors burst open, the hoarse voice of the librarian barking out ‘who’s there?’ into the peaceful bliss, and Yue’s heart thudded to the floor in horror. 

“Shit.” Suki hissed, hopping to her feet and smoothing down her uniform, grabbing Yue’s hand and hauling her, a little starstruck, to her feet. 

“Don’t worry, princess,” Suki said, throwing a mischievous smirk Yue’s way as she brushed a strand of her hair out of her blue eyes, “if your job is to get us into messes, mine will be getting us out of them.” 

_Us_. Yue liked that. 

Suki looked incandescent in the shadows like that, kiss-red and messy, and suddenly, Yue wasn’t worried about getting caught. She trusted Suki. She trusted Suki enough that she could tell her to walk into the arctic sea right now and she’d probably do it. 

“Come _on_.” Suki urged, and Yue scoffed, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she scooped the poem she’d given Suki up from where it had fallen to the floor, grabbing the first book she came across. It was on astronomy – constellations and stargazing and Tui’s part in it all – and Yue slipped the poem in between the pages, gently putting it back before being yanked away by Suki. 

“Where’s your sense of sentiment?” Yue hissed, and Suki elbowed her to keep her quiet as the librarian approached. He was a haggard old man, bitter, but when he turned to inspect the corridor opposite, he didn’t notice Yue and Suki slipping out of the library. The moment they were out of sight, they sprinted into the darkness, letting their laughter bounce off the walls. They ran until Yue’s lungs burned, hand fisting her long furs and hoisting them up to give her more freedom to move, every inch the scandal, and Suki didn’t let go until they were at Yue’s chambers. 

“Go.” Suki grinned, pushing Yue towards her doors. “Quick, before someone sees you.” 

Yue just grabbed Suki’s jaw, jumping onto her tiptoes to steal another kiss from her lips, beaming when Suki groaned at her antics, indignantly grabbing her and all but shoving her into her room. 

The doors closed between them, Yue back to being a royal, Suki back to being on night duty, and Yue dared to press her ear to the door. 

“Goodnight, Suki.” She whispered, and Spirits, maybe the ice really wasn’t as soundproof as she used to think, or maybe Suki was just listening for her, because not a moment later, she heard the fond response. 

“Goodnight, Yue.”

* * *

For the next seven days, they were inseparable. Yue spent them in council meetings punctuated by secret messages exchanged between warrior and princess, and she spent her nights sparring in their clearing, going until they were exhausted and finding themselves always back in the library, tangled together on the windowsill. Some days, Suki read from the astronomy book Yue had found, pointing out constellations Yue had heard a hundred times before, but never like this, with her head against Suki's collarbone and Suki's thumb tracing circles into her hip. Other days, they would talk until the librarian showed up, chasing them away. Suki told Yue about Kyoshi Island, about her warriors, about her travels and her friends, about Sokka. Yue told Suki about this beautiful world of ice, about her people, about her father, about Hahn. And they took every part the other was willing to give with an insatiable _want_ , devouring every word with their hands and storing it deep inside. Yue wanted to memorise Suki, wanted to re-read her and underline her favourite parts, wanted to analyse the double meanings and pick apart her syntax. 

This had started as a candle, flickers of passion and all that was new and exciting, but it was building into an inferno, every moment and word shared adding another stick of kindling to the blaze. 

Yue had indulged, she’d let herself have this one thing, and now she didn’t know how to let go. 

She just knew that the world where she had been able to settle for Hahn was destroyed now, a new one taking structure before her eyes. 

Yue had chosen Suki, and Yue was going to keep choosing Suki until their hearts were bound together by the same bloody sinew. Suki had been the one to call her a poet, so be it. Poets were crazed things, maniacal and bloodthirsty. If Suki had shown she was willing to destroy a world for Yue, then Yue would do this much. 

Yue would talk to her father.

* * *

Yue usually kept to herself at mealtimes. She made polite small talk with Hahn on her one side, and enjoyed chatting to her father on her other side whenever some ambassador or elder wasn’t diverting his attention, but most of the time, she found herself seeming invisible, picking at her food and happy to just people watch. 

Today, she sat down, spine-steeled, holding Suki’s brown stare from across the room for a moment before turning to Chief Arnook. 

“Father, can we talk?” She asked, and while this wasn’t the most private setting, it was the only time she could guarantee to see him, and she’d made sure Suki took care of Hahn. There was trouble in the market, a cabbage merchant’s stand completely destroyed, that was making him late. _Very random and peculiar_ , Suki had said with an evil grin. 

Arnook turned the full force of his concerned expression on Yue in an instant, black eyebrows furrowing. “Of course,” he said, “what’s wrong?” 

Yue swallowed the instinctive ‘nothing’ about to leave her tongue, instead sitting taller, lowering her voice to keep their conversation private but keeping it steady enough to be firm. 

“I want to be the next Chief.” She said, and Arnook blinked in surprise. 

“You will be.” He said, his frown morphing into one of confusion. “Once you marry Hahn, the two of you will-.” 

“No.” Yue said, sharp, and there it was. _No_. She was putting her foot down. 

“Father,” she said calmly, and began to recite the speech she’d practised over and over in her head for a week. 

“Our tribe, for centuries, made it so women were not allowed to practice combative waterbending. It took one brave girl to stand up to that for us to realise that we had the ability and the _duty_ to change. Now, I'm taking my own stand.” Her father was watching her, transfixed, as Yue jutted forward her chin. “I do not want to marry Hahn. I want to inherit the Chiefdom myself, and have it as my own birthright, as it would have been had I not been born a girl. I want you to trust me with that power.” 

Arnook stared and Yue stared right back, holding her breath, disbelief coursing through her because _did she really just say all that?_ Was she dreaming? But no, because her dreams for years had been plagued by the day she stood for this tribe and saved them all, and she had lived dutifully and without expectation of any sort of reward since because it was for her people and she would do it again. Now, she knew that she could have those feelings, but she could also expect not a reward, but _respect_. She had earnt it, a thousand times over. She had proven that she wasn’t weak, or fragile. She had proven that she could protect herself, and she could protect her people, and she could preserve the home that she adored so much that it wasn’t the kind of thing that could be measured. 

Just like a Chief. 

“Where is this all coming from?” Arnook asked, still looking a little in shock, but not angry, Yue realised tentatively, a flicker of hope skipping over her heart. Not angry just... surprised. 

“It’s always been here.” Yue said, refusing to let go of this, not now. “Times have changed, Father, and I shouldn’t have to earn what ought to be rightfully mine. But if I did have to, I like to think I have earnt it. I like to think you respect me, Father. Not as your vulnerable little girl, but as your flesh and blood. As your _heir_.” 

“You know I respect you, Yue.” Arnook hissed, tone suddenly firm, offended. “But what about Hahn? And the council?” 

“The council have surprised us in the past.” Yue said fiercely, matching strength with unshakable strength as she remembered the final discussion on girls being taught to use their bending to fight, as she remembered two female elders and Pakku, of all people, swaying the votes of the old men who would see this day never come. Yue’s father had voted in favour of change once. He could do it again. He was a progressive man, but something was holding him back. 

“Father,” Yue said, finally letting her normal softness into her voice, clutching Arnook’s hand, “you can’t protect me forever. I love you, and I'm so grateful, but I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, and you won’t, but I refuse to be miserable because you’re scared of letting me go. You have to let me grow up now.” She gave his hand a hard squeeze. “It’s time.” 

The room was still a cacophony of oblivious noise and laughter, tribesmen and women chatting about their day as they ate, but in that moment, it was just Yue talking to her father, not a princess talking to a Chief, and not a subject talking to a ruler. This was her dad, and she loved him, and they were all the family they had left in this world. They'd clung onto one another for so long now that the thought of letting go, of seeing the claw marks in their wake, was terrifying. But it was time. It had been time for a while now. 

And Arnook knew that too. Yue could tell he did, in the hesitant but firm squeeze of his hand, in the glassy look in his eyes. 

“Tui,” he said gently, a small, sad smile growing on his lips, “you remind me so much of your mother sometimes.” 

And then he turned to face his tribe, levelling his voice and his gaze in a way that commanded attention in a heartbeat. _Chief voice_. 

“I’m calling a meeting of the small council. Finish your meals, we will convene after.” 

He didn’t once let go of Yue’s hand.

* * *

It took weeks. Yue had expected that. Traditions don’t change overnight, and a lot of the elders on the small council were still bitter about the last changes, let alone these ones. But Yue had spoken to her father again before the meeting, just the two of them, and she finally told him about how she didn’t love Hahn, how there was someone else. 

She almost regretted it, because she saw the moment her father pinned this entire thing on some silly, fleeting romance. And the thing is, Yue knew how teenaged it sounded. She was an adult now, turning her life upside down over a girl she had barely known a month. But this wasn’t about Suki. Suki had pushed Yue in a way no one had dared to before, had known Yue wouldn’t snap under the pressure, and Suki had shown the opportunity to Yue, but Yue had been the one to grab it, had been the one to bend instead of break. She was doing this for herself, and she was doing it because she was the rightful Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. Not Hahn, and not any other man trying to leash her with a betrothal necklace. She made her father see that, and he listened, and he was agonisingly silent, and then he left for the meeting and Yue had no idea what was happening or being said or if he was even on her side, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. 

“You should write me something.” Suki said from Yue’s side as they walked, their knuckles brushing through thick mittens but still enough contact for Yue to feel warm. “A poem.” 

“I told you,” Yue said, smiling a little, though it didn’t reach her tired eyes, “I’m not a poet. Besides, when did you turn into such a sap?” 

Suki snorted, a horrendous sound Yue was coaxing from her more and more. “You’ve converted me, Your Sappiness.” 

“Ugh,” Yue scrunched up her nose, “never say that ever again.” 

Yue was saved from the sniped response she knew was about to leave Suki’s lips by Hahn stepping in front of them. Yue paused, almost bumping into him with the suddenness of it all, and tried not to elbow Suki when the warrior glared at the man before them. 

“Hahn, where have you-?” 

“The Chief wants to see you.” Hahn said, cutting Yue off in a way that made Suki brush a threatening hand over her fans. “I’ve just been to speak with him. I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

And then he was storming off, and Yue didn’t know what just happened, but she felt guilt clawing at her insides. Guilt, and something else. Realisation, excitement... 

Something was happening. 

Something was changing. 

“I’ll be right outside.” Suki said quietly as they finished their walk, moving to stand a little too close to Yue to pass as just an innocently protective guard, and Yue nodded, nerves pumping through her veins. But she knew Suki would be right outside. Suki would be there in a heartbeat if Yue called her, and the thought of that let her at least school her expression into something strong before Yue entered the large icy hut used for meetings. 

Arnook was the only person inside, sat at the head of the long room with scrolls laid out before him and all the other floor pillows empty. Yue felt like she was about to stand trial, but she held her head up, levelled her shoulders, and moved to sit beside her father. 

“Hahn said you wanted to see me.” Yue said tentatively, and when her father finally, finally met her gaze, his eyes were watery, his lips tugged into a smile. 

“My Yue,” he breathed, large hand resting on her head to dance over the stark-white hair, and Yue couldn’t help but relax into her father’s touch, “you have been here, so strong, all this time, and I never noticed.” 

“Has a decision been made?” Yue asked, almost too scared to utter the words, too scared to hear the answer. 

Arnook smiled brighter. "Yes.” 

“And?” 

“And our tribe,” he said, pride melting shamelessly into his words, “would be _honoured_ to have you as the next Chieftan.” 

Yue choked out a breath of shock, of disbelief, staring at her father for any sign of a trick, but this was real, this was in her hands and feasible, and _she’d done it_. She'd done it. 

When she felt tears, hot and uninvited, slip down her cheeks, she let them fall, allowing herself to just bask in this moment as she leaned closer to her father until her face was pressed into the furs of his parka, arms wrapping around him and holding on. 

“Hahn?” Yue asked, voice muffled and wet. She felt her father’s chest shake with a rumbled laugh. 

“You don’t need to marry him if you don’t want to.” He said, smoothing down her hair. “Though I still urge you to keep alliances in mind, someone who can strengthen our tribe.” 

Yue pulled back, smiling sheepishly as she scrubbed the tears from her face. “Do you think someone from the Earth Kingdom could strengthen international relations?” 

Arnook’s eyes narrowed, caught off guard, before he laughed again, a lovely, booming thing. “Have you someone in mind?” 

“Sort of.” Yue admitted, looking to the hut’s entrance, to where she knew without a shadow of a doubt Suki would be waiting. 

Her stomach fell in horror as she realised she was building into a whole new conversation with her father. He was a kind man, oblivious at times, but his heart was good. She knew his reaction would be tolerant at worst and welcoming at best. All these years, she’d simply ignored the topic, because why entertain such a thing when Hahn’s betrothal necklace sat right there at her throat? 

But now, the world was lush with change and newness, and this was suddenly a lot more than a possibility. 

“I have to tell you something else, too.” Yue said, turning back to her father. 

Arnook raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue. “Oh?” 

“Well,” Yue said, clasping her hands on her lap, before deciding to make it quick, "I like girls as well as boys.” 

Safe to say, _that_ was not at all what her father was expecting to hear.

* * *

Written in heavy ink on old parchment, nestled within the loved pages of a broken-spined astronomy book and stored atop a shelf on the back row of the library, the darkest corner, where no one could see them, is a poem. It is written by a Northern Water Tribe hand and smudged by an Earth Kingdom hand; fitful and distracted. It is found by a curious teenager one day, a girl whose mind wanders when with her best friend. She reads it, and she does not know where it came from. No one does. It reads as follows: 

_In seven days, she destroyed your world  
for the next seven, eat with your fingers  
& trust only the moon._

She holds it close, and briefly, she thinks of taking it, pocketing the poem that makes her heart stutter to think on. But she doesn’t. Like many young girls before her, she puts it back, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep this _safe_. It is now a secret of the Northern Water Tribe; dusty and archaic. Decades have passed since the ink dried, dozens of hearts turned by the love within the parchment. It becomes an inside joke, almost. Girls of that kind finding others of that kind. A shrug, a flirty smile. _Seven days?_ A blinked hesitation, a catch of breath, a question of if they are asking what you think - hope - they’re asking. _Long enough to destroy the world._

This cataclysm of hot-headed, duty-bound, comradery-tainted romance started somewhere. It is known that the origins of this poem are unknown; a total mystery. 

A mystery to all but two. 

There are two girls downstairs, and they hold hands before the entire tundra, older and wiser, and they are happy. It's easy now, simple. Chief Yue succeeded her father after he lived to an old, respectable, happy age, and she has ruled ever since with kindness and honour and strength. And at her side, even in the months the two are separated on business, is Suki. 

The moon and her warrior, Yue and Suki, every atom of every star that ever collided to bind them coming together to see them love in this one lifetime. 

They take the gondola through Agna Qel’a, Suki’s feet kicked over the side in order for her to lounge back. It's the summer months, when the sun shines all day and night, never-blinking. Yue has travelled the world in her years since meeting Suki, spending a lot of that time discovering Kyoshi Island, and it still amazes her that there are places where the sun doesn’t work like this. Yue could go on and on about the beauty of that, while Suki calls it ‘pretty neato’, and even after all this time, it makes Yue laugh. 

“I found something the other day.” Suki says absentmindedly, turning her head to Yue. Her hair is longer than it was when she was young, but those eyes are still as searing as ever, forests trapped in her irises. Yue has seen pine trees now, knows how they smell. They don’t smell as good as Suki. 

“Yeah?” Yue hums, perfectly content to just _be_ , to let the water carry them lazily around the city she loves, to see children playing in the streets. 

“Yeah.” Suki says, sitting up and moving to be as close to Yue as the boat allows, no hesitations in her hands as she pushes Yue’s hair from her face, fingers delicate and so full of love that it makes Yue melt a little. 

“Remember this?” Suki asks, pulling a piece of parchment from her pocket. Yue narrows her eyes, because a single piece of parchment over the course of their relationship that has been punctuated with thousands of poems from all over the world really is not specific enough. 

But then Suki unfolds it, Yue’s eyes catching on a few of the words, her own hand-writing, and she realises what it is. 

“It took me so long to convince you to write me something that I kept it with me everywhere I went for two years straight, you remember?” Suki asks, her smile causing the lines in her face to deepen. 

“And that’s exactly how you wound up almost losing it, I remember.” Yue says with a shake of her head, heart swelling as she remembers how she’d written so many words it made her eyes blurry, scrunching up each piece of parchment and starting again because she just couldn’t get them right, finally finishing the poem, handing it to Suki with trembling fingers, near sick with worry. 

And the nerves were wasted, because Suki _loved_ it. 

Loved it enough to have it in her pocket when, on one of their visits to the South Pole to convene with their friends like they did every few months, Katara splashed Suki and soaked the parchment. It was an easy fix, what with a waterbender on hand, but it made Suki too scared to take the poem with her anywhere now. These days, it tended to stay tucked away somewhere Suki deemed ‘safe’, and Yue didn’t mind, because over the years they’ve written so much for one another that she almost forgot about it. 

Until today, because before her is the first poem she wrote for Suki, still curled at the edges from Katara’s treatment and creased every which way from living with Suki for so long. 

Yue smooths it over, the feeling familiar, and finds herself smiling as she reads the words of a woman who didn’t think she could be more in love, only to prove herself wrong with each morning she woke up with Suki at her side, each smile, each day spent in each other’s homeland, each kiss and argument and resolution. She remembers Suki in sunrises and sunsets, in moonlight and in shadow. She loves her, more and more so each day. 

Yue smiles, and lets the words pour out of her. 

_The stars know no way of loving that wouldn’t blind us  
Which is my way of telling you that  
I don’t envy the moon  
Because for all she has, she does not have this  
She can never feel the strength of your hands  
She can never brush back your hair  
She can never kiss you and kiss you and kiss you  
I am a constellation of all that you are and  
A mere ray of all that is to come  
But I do think that  
If the moon could love you  
She would love you like this;  
Collarbones and pine  
Your hand in mine and _

_Two girls  
Bound, beautiful and blinding_

**Author's Note:**

> and they all lived happily ever after (omg they all lived happily ever after)
> 
> if you liked this feel free to come shout at me on [tumblr @hella1975](https://hella1975.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> **LIST OF POEMS USED IN THE FIC:**
> 
> “In seven days... trust only the moon” - extract from After She Leaves You, Femme, by No’u Revilla 
> 
> "Watching the moon at dawn... no part left out" - poem from The Ink Dark Moon, by Izumi Shikibu 
> 
> "Which is better... without desire" - extract from Things I Want Decided, from The Ink Dark Moon, by Izumi Shikibu
> 
> "I am cautious... it cannot be helped" - extract from Compass, by Joan Naviyuk Kane, see original in Inupiaq [here](https://poets.org/poem/compass)
> 
> "It is poetry which... consoles the hearts of fierce warriors" - extract from The Ink Dark Moon, by Oro No Komachi 
> 
> "At night, this side of things is settled without the memory of ache" - extract from Low Mountain Lake Song, by Lehua M. Taitano


End file.
